


The Cure for Leprosy

by zeldadestry



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-14
Updated: 2004-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:01:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pray, tell me Sir, whose Dog are you?" - Alexander Pope</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cure for Leprosy

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: character deaths

Locked in the cell, he has learned the meaning of loneliness. There is no natural light, and a cold draft blows in from the crack at the bottom of the door. He tries not to think of his life before, because it makes him cry, and he has promised himself he will not cry. More and more, his thoughts cluster around killing Luthor. It all comes down to a point blank shot in the face. He doesn't want to have to touch the bastard. The thought makes him ill, which rules out stabbing or choking or beating. He's not a sadist. He doesn't care about making it long and painful, he just wants the man dead. So fucking dead he can never be brought back. Point blank through the skull. Shoot him multiple times, destroy the brain. That's how he'll do it.

He seethes, remembering his meeting with Luthor last week, when he learned he was going to be that asshole's spy. There were pictures, stapled to the front of thick manila folders. The files were filled with information about Lana Lang and, especially, Clark Kent. He's supposed to use one to unmask the other. He has never felt so cold in his life. He doesn't care about anyone. Lang and Kent mean nothing to him. He feels a little bit sorry for them, maybe. He doesn't want to hurt anyone, but he will if he has no other choice. He has no money, no one he can contact. Even if he had somewhere to go, who would be able to protect him from the power of Lionel Luthor? His life, what's left of it, literally depends on the serum. His life is a toy in the hands of this bastard.

He turns over on the narrow mattress. Footsteps are coming toward the door. It's the familiar trot of high heels. Dr. Teng. She, at least, was sometimes kind to him. He won't hurt her, even if their positions are reversed one day.

There's a light knock at the door. "Adam? It's Dr. Teng." She always announced herself before unlocking and opening the door. The door swings out into the hall, and she gestures for him to follow her. He walks behind her down the fluorescent halls which stink of the monkeys and the bleach they use to clean up after the monkeys. The light hurts his eyes, and he squints. She unlocks another door and leads him into an office. It must be hers. There are two purple potted orchids on top of a file cabinet beneath a window. Gazing out the window is a perfect moment of solace. It has been months since he's seen the outside world. He sees a dark bird, flying high up in the sky. Dr. Teng touches his shoulder, and motions for him to sit down in one of the chairs. She sits across from him. "Mr. Luthor says it's time, Adam."

"Time?"

"To leave for Smallville." She shakes her head. "I'm concerned about you."

"Because I'm the scientific breakthrough of the century, and you're afraid Luthor's going to take all the credit?"

She rests her hand on his knee. It has been so long since anyone has touched him with soft hands. "Luthor knows how many vials of the serum we have. He's instructed me to dole them out to you on a vial by vial basis."

"Making me his slave."

"I've been siphoning off a little from each vial. I've saved three for you." She opens a small safe under her desk and hands him a metal box.

He unhooks the clasp and slowly opens the lid. Here they are, three pieces of his life, set aside, safe. A font of hope opens in his chest, but he doesn't let it reach his face. "Can you get me more?"

"I told you. Luthor checks the inventory almost daily."

"Please, Dr. Teng."

"I'll see what I can do." She smoothes back her hair, looks at a chart on her desk. "I'm concerned about how you'll fare without me closely monitoring your situation."

"I'm sure I'll feel much better, once I'm free of this hellhole."

She has the humanity to look ashamed. "We've kept you here for your own safety."

"Is that how you rationalize it?"

"I understand that you're angry."

God. That she could patronize him like this. "You understand nothing. If you understood, you wouldn't be part of this."

"That's enough!" She slams her hand down on the desk, and then immediately looks embarrassed by her outburst. She presses her lips together and looks away for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is almost plaintive. "Be careful, Adam. I've told Luthor that you need the serum every eight hours."

He usually doses himself twice a day. "You lied."

"Stretch it out. Save what you can."

Luthor has sent a limo to take him into Smallville. Dr. Teng waits with him at the backdoor of the building. She stares at him, as she often does. Her hand reaches out and touches his face. "You have an eyelash." She holds it up to his mouth, suspended on her finger. "Do you want to make a wish?" He shakes his head. "I'll make one for you."

When the limo arrives she puts his bag in the back seat and then pulls him into her arms. "You're a miracle," she whispers into his ear. She tries to kiss his cheek, but he claws at her arm, making her gasp in pain. She tries to break out of his grip, but he holds on, dragging her closer.

"Look at me," Adam orders. She turns toward him, wincing. "Whatever I am, I'm not yours." He lets go of her, fighting the urge to hit her, spit at her. He never wants to see any of them again.

******

The arm around Lex feels strong, but there's something strange in the grip of the hand; it trembles. Adam's voice is low and steady when it hisses below his ear. "What are you doing here, Luthor?"

"This is my building. I have every right to inspect the premises."

"Don't give me bullshit." Adam's grip on Lex tightens.

"Let me go, and I'll talk." Adam releases his hold and Lex turns around to face him, brushing off his coat as if the boy's touch has offended him.

Adam watches him with mirrored distaste. There's something else, though, in his eyes. It's not difficult for Lex to recognize it. Fear. "Did your father send you here?"

Lex frowns. This is unexpected. With a little sneaking around, he has learned that his father keeps an eye on Adam Knight. Apparently the boy's a test subject of sorts. If Adam knew Lionel, however, then Lionel must have been personally supervising the research. This was obviously far more important than Lex's initial assumption. "You know my father?"

"Unfortunately." Adam cracks his knuckles, like a street fighter, and glares. Lex figures they'd be fairly matched in a fight. He's bigger then Adam, true, but there's something unhinged in this boy. He'd fight like a rabid, cornered, dog. "Did he send you here?"

He shouldn't feel sorry for Adam. He shouldn't feel sorry for anyone, at this point. But, he does. He sees the way Adam flinches each time he mentions Lionel. "No. That's not why I'm here. I didn't know there was a personal connection between you and my father."

Adam looks at him narrowly. He obviously isn't sure if he can trust Lex, but it seems like he wants to. "Then why are you here?"

Lex has learned that sometimes it's easiest to just tell the truth. "Lana said some things about you that made me curious." His eyes, which are adjusting to the lack of light in the room, fall on a rubber strap on the night stand. "You shoot up?"

"It's not what you think."

He's so earnestly defensive that Lex smiles. "You're unfamiliar with my press. I've tried almost everything, at least once."

"It's medicine."

"Then why were you so defensive with Lana?"

"I don't like people spying on me." He takes a step toward Lex, and his posture is threatening. The red neon of the Talon marquee shines in the room, over both their bodies. Adam face is transfigured in the light. He looks desperately pained, like a martyr. Lex knows this probably shouldn't attract him, but his body reacts.

"Then you probably shouldn't shoot up in public."

"I told you. It's medicine. I can't control when I need it." Adam's voice cracks. He turns away from Lex and sits down at the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands.

Lex rubs at his eyes, reminds himself that Adam is as young as Clark. He can't badger this boy as though he were just another of Lionel's associates. He moves slowly toward the pile of books stacked on the bedside table. His mother had been a great reader. His father reads a lot, true, but it is always about power, knowing more than everyone else. Lionel has no real relationship with the written word. The beauty of a turn of phrase can't offer any seduction. The stack was made up of several different editions of 'The Inferno', all illustrated, some in Italian. "I see you like Dante."

Adam raises his head. His eyes are unfocused, reaching back to some memory. Lex's hands want to reach out to him, touch this painfully beautiful boy. "They were my mother's. Her family was from Rome."

"The eternal city."

"Yes." He walks over to Lex, and takes the books away, cradling them against his chest. "She's dead."

Lex wonders if Adam knows enough about him to try appealing to his vulnerabilities. Intentional, or not, he feels for this boy. "I'm sorry."

"Everyone dies." The awed look on Adam's face is disturbing, given the morbid context. He looks almost worshipful.

"I lost my mother, too. It's true that it gets better, but it never really goes away." Lex hates that after all these years, he still doesn't have anything original to say about it. He hates that there are losses you can't repay with money, with promised prestige or perfectly chosen words.

Adam places the books back on his bedside table, and removes a picture from inside the front cover of the top book. He holds it up so that Lex can see it. "She was pregnant with me when this picture was taken, but she didn't know it." Beholding incredible beauty is another experience that defies language. What are the words for a face so striking? The best he can manage is that she is the kind of woman he has always imagined would end up with Clark. She is almost beautiful enough for Clark. For Lex, Clark is beauty's beginning and end. Adam's mother had thick dark hair, like her son, the same strong eyebrows and stark cheekbones that impart a fierce, feral beauty. Lex had suspected the eyes would be sad, and they are. Huge, sad eyes. Some families are cursed. Who knows how it all began, but here they are, lost and disintegrating, born into a tale of Poe's. "I'm sorry," he says, again. "She was very beautiful." He can think of nothing else to say.

"Yeah." Adam carefully puts the picture back in the book, softly laying it back down. "Can you help me, Lex?"

"That depends. I don't know you, and I can't even trust the people I do know, so I'm hardly inclined to take your part in anything."

Adam moves closer to Lex, close enough to touch. Lex can feel the heat of Adam's body filling the space between them. "You're right. You don't know me. But you know your father. Help me, Lex."

Lex has never been able to resist his reactions to Clark. He wants, very badly, to be unmoved by Adam. But he is moved. "What does he have on you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is he blackmailing you?"

"You could call it that. He controls the medicine. They dole it out to me. If they ever decide to cut me off, I'm dead. It's making me crazy."

"There's no other source for the medicine?"

"No! It's some fucking experimental serum. This whole disaster is totally illegal."

"How did you get involved in this?"

"It's not my fault. They took me, after I," Adam trails off. His hands make strange shapes, as if he's trying to use them to explain what his words can not.

"After you what?"

"After I got sick, they took me from the hospital. They made me better, but now they have all the control."

"Who authorized your release from the hospital?"

Adam's voice is caustic. "I'm an orphan. I don't have anyone. That's why they did it. They knew there was no one to protect me."

"There must be people in your home town who could help you."

"No! I can't go back there. They won't understand why I'm not dead. I'm supposed to be dead. And what could any of them do for me? I have to have the serum. You should see what happens if I don't get it on time. I'm repulsive."

Shit. The boy is crying. Lex reaches out with his fingertips and brushes at the tears. "I doubt that."

Adam shivers and the eyes he turns on Lex are heated. Lex lets his fingers trail down to Adam's mouth, and Adam's lips part beneath the pressure. "Please help me."

"I'll help you." He hadn't expected to say it like this, no provisions, no qualifiers. "Tell me, what would make this better?"

"I want to have my own supply of the medicine. There's this Doctor, Dr. Teng. She's OK. She's the one who created the serum. I want your father to leave me alone, and I want enough medicine. That's it."

"I'll help you."

Panic is still on Adam's face, but it is no longer the dominant expression. "Thank you," he murmurs. His arms slip around Lex's waist, and he nuzzles his face against Lex's shoulder for just a moment, like a child seeking comfort.

******

It's almost closing time at the Talon, and Clark is lazily finishing his history reading. Actually, he's paying more attention to watching Lana than the book in front of him. It has been an uneventful week in Smallville, and he's grateful for the lull. Lana, though, looks unhappy. He hopes that he's not the reason. He doesn't know how to handle the guilt. Lana turns off the overhead music, smiling at him as she passes by. As the music fades, Clark is suddenly aware of Lex's voice nearby. "You're so pretty it's disgusting," Lex says. His voice is warm and heavy, and coats Clark's senses. Clark spins around, but Lex isn't there. And, although Lex has spoken with that honeyed voice to Clark, and backed it up with his leers, he's never declared himself.

"Stop teasing me, you prick." Clark recognizes this voice, too. It's Adam.

Lex laughs. "I'm serious. You might be the prettiest boy I've ever seen."

It's upstairs, Clark realizes, and a slow chill replaces the warmth he felt a moment earlier. He cranes his head upward, and adjusts his x-ray vision until he sees what he doesn't want to see. Lex is sitting on Adam's bed. He's dressed, but there's a definite rumpled quality to his clothing. Adam's naked except for a pair of white boxer shorts. "Pretty. Fuck that. Tell me I'm sexy."

"You know I think you're sexy."

"Then show me."

They kiss. Clark stops watching, but he can't stop the sick, turned on feeling inside of him. The sickness gets worse when he hears Adam say, between slurps and sucks. "Stop looking at me like that. Let me look at you. I love your face. You remind me of an El Greco portrait." Adam has no right to kiss Lex, to talk like he loves him.

"Which one?"

"I don't know. All of them, maybe."

"Why?"

"It's something sad and noble in your eyes."

"Is that really what you see?" Lex's voice is almost wistful.

"Yeah. What do you see?"

"When I look at you?"

"When you look at yourself."

"Are you OK, Clark?" He starts in his chair. It's Lana and she's looking at him exactly how she does most of the time now, like he's confusing and it gives her a headache.

"Sorry. I just thought I heard something."

She sits beside him. Her hair smells good, like lemons. "Are you sure you're OK? You look kind of weird."

"Have you seen Lex?"

"Not recently."

"How's it going with Adam?"

Lana frowns. "I don't think that's any of your business, Clark."

"Sorry." He shrugs and smiles to show her he didn't mean anything by the question. "Who's El Gecko?"

"What?"

"He's an artist, or something. El Gecko."

Lana's smile is small, but sweet, not mean. Sometimes Clark remembers that he really does like her at the end of everything, even if he doesn't love her. "El Greco. He was a Greek, living in Spain. Adam's crazy about him. Goya, too. I'm sure he'd lend you a book if you were interested."

They talk a little more. Lana tells a story about some omelet mishap she endured trying to make brunch for the Sullivan's last Sunday, and Clark laughs along with her, though he's not really sure what's funny. He has to use all his concentration to focus on not spying on Lex. He leaves the Talon soon afterward. On his way toward home, he can't help looking back at Lex once more. They're lying down, now, and Adam's curled around Lex's back, his face tucked into Lex's neck. One of his hands slowly strokes Lex's hip. Lex's eyes are closed, and one corner of his mouth is turned slightly upward in a secret smile. It gives Clark a cheap happiness to know he's the only one seeing that satisfied expression, even if it's not meant for him.

******

Lex doesn't know if he can find his voice. He still can't believe this. Adam's sleeping on the bed, and he tosses and turns. No wonder the kid has nightmares. Lex shakes him awake, hard. "Adam. Wake up."

"Lex? What's wrong?"

Lex thrusts the folder in front of his face. "I met Dr. Teng. What the hell is this?"

Adam blanches, and rips the papers out of Lex's hand. "It's none of your business."

"None of my business? You fucking bastard. You fucking died! What the hell are you?"

"I don't know! I don't know."

"You lied to me, you little prick. I offered my help and you lied to me."

"I told you!" Adam shouts. "I told you I was supposed to be dead!" He attempts to collect himself, his hands in fists at his side. He wipes the sweat from his brow, and advances on Lex. Lex ends up pressed against the wall, Adam's body pressing against him. Adam's voice is very quiet when he speaks. "Please, Lex. Listen to me. I don't even understand what happened, OK? I wasn't there. I fell asleep in a hospital bed, I woke up with your father's face leering in front of me. They say there's supposed to be peace after life, but everything that's happened to me has been a fucking nightmare. I don't know what I am, but I'm not bad, Lex. I don't deserve to be locked in a cage, tortured, forced to do what I'm told, just for the medicine. Do I? Do I deserve that?"

"No."

"I didn't want to lie. But what should I have said? What is there to say? I told you the only thing I know for sure. I'm supposed to be dead, but I'm not." One of his hands reaches up and strokes Lex's cheek. Lex lets himself be soothed by the touch. How could he turn away from this gentleness? "I like you, Lex, you know I do. I like how you look at me. Maybe that's why I didn't try to explain better. Because I knew it would change how you looked at me."

"How would I look at you?" Lex's own voice is soft, echoing Adam's.

"Like you hated me, wanted to hurt me."

Lex wonders if this was how they looked at Adam when he was captive at the facility. He burns on Adam's behalf. "Is that how I'm looking at you now?"

Adam stares into his eyes, his own wide and anxious, until they suddenly lighten. "No." Lex smiles, and Adam's follows his own. "Lex."

Why does it matter so much to have one's name whispered like that, like a blessing? Adam's lips lift up, and Lex bends his head to meet them. You're kissing a corpse, he tells himself. What the fuck does it matter? He is a corpse himself, alive only because of Clark's inhuman goodness. Adam is resurrected. It should be obscene, but it is beautiful. Lex burns to be a part of it. "Adam. I want you to fuck me. Do you want that?"

Adam's pupils dilate. "I don't know how."

"Nothing but instinct. I'll show you, if you want."

"I want."

Lex drags him to bed. It's funny, he thinks, as he uses his own fingers to open himself, Adam watching him with awe and desire painted across his face. It's funny how though everyone is always taking from him, Lex so rarely feels like he's giving. Not now, though. Now, he keeps his eyes on Adam, and knows that every flicker of feeling on Adam's face is a reaction to what he's doing. So, so good, all of it. Adam's whimper when he feels Lex slicking his cock. Adam's moan when he slowly sinks into Lex's body. The shocked circle of his lips, when he's in all the way. The look of satisfaction as he gives in to his thrusting impulse, as he just lets the power of the sensations guide him. Adam's eyes fall shut, and Lex knows what that's like, to be so overwhelmed by what you feel, that you can't share it with anyone, have to keep it all to yourself. He watches Adam, moves his own hand quickly over his cock, because he knows Adam won't last long. Lex cries out ecstatically when he comes, filled with the knowledge that not only is he giving Adam something Adam's never had, he's also experiencing something completely singular, something no other person has ever had. Death could be defeated, and Lex lies with the prize.

******

It's an unseasonably warm afternoon, and Lex and Adam are in Adam's bed. All the windows in the apartment are open, and the space is filled with sun.

"They're playing good music, for once, downstairs."

Adam stretches and nods, a satisfied smile on his face. "Thelonious Monk. I wish I could play the piano like that."

"You're an amazing piano player. I wish I could play like you."

Adam shrugs. "I'm OK. There's no one like Monk." He reaches over to the night stand for the bottle of wine they're sharing, drinks from it slowly, then passes it to Lex. "I was wondering."

"Yes?" Lex takes a sip, holds it in his mouth. It's not the finest wine he's ever had, far from it, but there's something about this day, this moment, that makes it the best.

"Will you tell me about it, about when you drove off the bridge? I really want to know."

Lex hands the bottle back to Adam, and turns over on his back. He stares up at the ceiling as though the scene is suddenly projected there. "It was amazing, actually. I was flying, but I could see everything beneath me in perfect detail. I could see the river rippling in the breeze. I felt like I could finally breathe, after years of choking. I felt free, like there was nothing holding me back, not the flaws of my body, or my father, none of that had meaning. I felt new."

"Like you were born again."

"Hey. I was deliberately avoiding that phrase."

"Then what happened?"

"I opened my eyes. Clark was there. He had saved me." Even here, with Adam, even now, with all that has passed between Lex and Clark, a part of Lex believes that they belong together, are bound in a way nothing can break.

"Do you understand it?"

"No. I think it had an effect on Clark. He's saved a lot of other people since then."

"It inspired him."

"Maybe."

"I don't know why I was saved. I don't know why your father did it. I understand Dr. Teng better. She's a scientist. She wanted to see if she could."

"In some cultures, when a man dies a virgin, the community builds a symbolic bedchamber for him. Its purpose is to allow his spirit to experience carnal knowledge."

Adam flicks the tip of his tongue against Lex's nipple. The touch makes Lex shiver. "You're saying I came back for this?" His voice is tight. He's reigning in some emotional response.

Lex runs his hand over the curve of Adam's thigh. The muscle feels strong and solid as the flank of a horse beneath his grip. It feels so good just to stroke him. "Maybe. Do you think it's a good enough reason?"

Adam's smile is small, but his eyes on Lex are wet. "Yeah," he says, reaching forward to grab Lex's shoulders and drag him into a sloppy, necessary, kiss.

******

The limousine travels smoothly. Lex leans back in the leather seat, and runs his finger along the glass window, tracing the track of a raindrop. In the pit of his belly, he fears this is a fool's errand. He still remembers how he had labored over childish, tear-stained letters thanking the nurses who had cared for his mother leading up to her death. His father had discovered him, had ripped the letters in half and thrown them in the trash. "They were doing their jobs, Lex. People are supposed to do their jobs, and do them well. You don't thank them for it."

He had been very careful not to cry in front of his father. He kept his face lowered and averted until he was sure he was in control of his emotions. "And when people don't do their jobs? What then?"

"They are punished."

This memory stays with him as they eat. He keeps his face as still and smooth as possible, so that there will be nothing for his father to divine.

They have already finished the meal when he finally manages to broach the subject. "I heard a disturbing rumor recently about a possible LuthorCorp project."

"Did you now?" Lionel waves away the waiter who is trying to fill their water glasses. "Regarding what, may I ask?"

"I know about Adam Knight."

"I have no idea who that is."

"The boy, dad. The boy your doctors brought back to life." He has lost. He knows as soon as the words fall from his mouth.

"Raising the dead?" Lionel chuckles, then takes a long draw on his cigar. He exhales the smoke slowly, keeping squinted eyes on Lex. His hand reaches across the table and presses down hard on Lex's. His voice is low as he leans across the table. He has never looked so much like a snake. He strikes. "Talk like that will get you recommitted to Belle Reve, son." Lex manages not to flinch. Lionel sits back in his chair and lifts his glass, swirling it between his aristocratic fingers. "Excellent cognac, do you agree?"

"It's exceptional." Lex's voice is flat. Shit. He has badly overestimated, again, Lionel's reserves of fatherly affection. There will be no help from his father. All he can hope is that he hasn't made things worse for Adam. The windowless dining room has become as oppressive as a mausoleum. The wood paneled walls surrounding Lex fill him with a rising panic.

Back in the limo, he drinks whiskey, straight. He can not imagine what compelled him to make such a colossal mistake in judgment. Hasn't he learned what his father is by now? He was never one of those kids who got beat down. Beating on your kids suggested being out of control, and though Lionel often was, he did everything possible to cultivate the image that he was not. There had been slaps, occasionally, but there had been only one time that Lex had ever considered a beating. Lex's mother had been preparing for a trip to Italy, for fashion week. Lex had been resting on the chaise in her dressing room, watching her pack. He was eight. He loved watching her fold her beautiful clothes. He liked to touch her soft silks. He'd been crying about her nearing departure, and Lionel had come in, asking what all the fuss was about. He'd dragged Lex off to his office and sneered at him for a moment, before belting him across the face. "Don't cry, Lex," he had said. Lex's tears, which had previously been silent, were now mixed with whines. Another slap. "Stop crying, Lex."

"Stop hurting me!"

"I'll stop if you'll stop." There had been a smile on his father's face.

He had been scared of his father before, and now he understood why. His father enjoyed inflicting pain. It was an adversarial relationship from that day onward. Lex liked to say it had toughened him, but now he realizes he has been entirely unrealistic about his inability to protect those he cares for, and himself. The realization that maybe he should have left his father to die in the castle during the tornado appears before him. After all, why had he not done it? Because he wasn't ready to be damned? No. He knows that wasn't the reason. He loves his father. He thinks there's some way his father might still love him, even after all that's happened. A single tear travels down his face. Interesting. He can't remember the last time he cried. Maybe on the island? Maybe in the institution, but he doesn't know. Shortly after Walden had stormed into the castle, raving that Clark was an alien, Lex had faced the possibility that he might someday have to kill his father. He had considered it from a purely analytical standpoint, like an equation. Could he do it? Could he get away with it? He'd never believed, though, that he'd find himself that desperate. Lex isn't there, not yet, but he's closer than ever before. Cloning dead girls, bringing men back to life, poisoning your own son, it was all completely insane. God, he's tired. What is he going to tell Adam? He hasn't been able to help the situation in any way. All he has done is draw his father's suspicions. He knows he's drinking too much, and he doesn't care. It's a long ride back to Smallville, and he has to do something to stop the accusations in his head.

******

Back in Smallville, the Talon is bustling. Lex moves through the crowds of people like a ghost. Lana runs around in yet another of her matching sweater/headband combos in pink. Her fake smile oppresses him. "Here to see Adam?" she asks, an unspoken accusation in her eyes.

He nods. His legs are tired and ache as he climbs the stairs. At the top of them, he looks down onto the Talon. What do any of them know? Living their lives in a town of resurrection and peril, and they just go on pretending it's all as normal as a network sitcom. They order their special coffees, take five minutes at the counter to decide between a muffin or a cookie, as if any of it possibly matters. He slips the key in the lock and takes a deep breath. He is never a good liar when he wishes what he is saying were true. The door opens in front of him before he can turn the key. Adam's beautiful eyes gleam up at him.

"Hey," Adam says, pulling him into the apartment and kissing him as soon as the door closes behind them. "How'd it go?" There is hope in his eyes. Lex hates himself for putting it there.

"Not as well as I'd hoped, but well enough." His voice sounds steady. Disengaging from Adam's embrace, he heads to the kitchen and pours himself some vodka. Adam follows and stands behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging their bodies together. Lex's drink sloshes onto his shirt. At least it isn't going to stain.

Adam's breath is hot against his cheek. "You're lying," he says, but his voice is not accusatory, and he follows his words with kisses. "It's not your fault, Lex. He's a monster. He doesn't have any pity."

Lex shakes Adam off his back and turns to face him. He means it to be confrontational, but he can't meet Adam's eyes. "He's still my father. Have some respect." There is no conviction in his voice. He sounds as defeated as he feels. He can feel Adam's palpable anger, feels the tension stretched between them. In the next moment, though, it all dissolves, because Adam's arms are wrapped tight around him. He thinks maybe he's even crying, just a little. His head falls down on Adam's shoulder, and for one perverse moment it flashes through his mind that Clark would be taller, stronger. Maybe he would feel safe if it were Clark holding him. Before he can berate himself for being a traitor, the thought is gone. It's gone because he's kissing Adam, and god, it never ever lessens, does it? When it's like this, when it's both the endless tension in his hips as he grinds against Adam, and the continual chorus in his brain telling him that they should both be dead, but they're both alive. It has to mean something, doesn't it? The body, the mind, and the heart, too, because he's helping Adam. Adam needs him, is counting on him.

Adam's hands are gripping Lex's ass convulsively, like he's having a seizure, as they move against each other. Lex wants to see him, shoves him away so he can have a good look. "Take off your clothes." Adam starts to unzip his dark blue hoodie, his eyes fixed on Lex. "Your beautiful fucking face." He didn't expect that to come out angry, but he can't help it. Adam's eyes. Those beautiful eyes, in that beautiful face. It is beauty that he is risking himself for. No. Not quite that simple. He is risking a lot, maybe even his own freedom, all for this boy. It would have been impossible not to be a little resentful. Adam slides off his t-shirt and then stops, a hand on his hip, the other reaching toward Lex. "I didn't tell you to stop."

"Your shirt is still on."

"So?"

"Isn't it more fun if it's quid pro quo?"

"No. Take off your fucking clothes."

Adam sneers and strips off the rest of his clothes quickly and sloppily, without looking at Lex. His cock is hardening, and he strokes it idly with one hand, running his other hand over his chest. He turns away from Lex, like Lex isn't even there. Lex stalks up to him, wrenches his arm. "God damn, Lex! That hurt, you asshole."

"Get on the bed. On your hands and knees. Now." Adam obeys. Lex smiles. "Good boy." He takes off his own clothes and gets behind Adam on the bed, running his hands up Adam's back.

Adam shivers. "Your hands are cold."

"You know what they say. Cold hands, warm hearts."

"They may say it, but I doubt they're talking about you."

"Point taken."

He slicks his thumb and starts to press it in, but Adam's sharp cry of "Hey!" stops him. "Give me a second, Lex. Jesus."

"Sorry," he mutters, though he's not. His inevitable climax, and the mindless thrusting that will take him to it, these are the only things on his horizon. He needs to just rut and get off. He needs to be sated, just for a moment. He reaches a hand around Adam and runs it up his inner thigh, runs his thumb over the tendon. He feels the blood moving beneath Adam's hot skin, hears Adam's sighs.

"Lex?"

"Are you ready?"

"I want to, I just, I can't relax."

Lex is not in the mood for coddling. He spreads more lube on his cock, on Adam's hole, and slowly slips in a finger. Once Adam is moving tentatively with him, he withdraws his finger, and lines up his cock. Adam cries out when Lex first pushes in, but the cry quickly turns into moaning. "God, Adam," Lex says, as their bodies move against each other. The sensation of drowning that has been pressing down on him since meeting with his father is heavier suddenly, and he moves faster and faster, no longer conscious of anything but needing to unleash everything roiling inside him. His father thought he could play god, decide who should live, who should die, but Lex is going to cheat him. Adam is going to be saved, no one will hurt him again. His orgasm is like hitting a concrete floor from twenty feet above. Everything in him feels broken. His bones, his brain, everything crushed. He can't see, can't think. He pulls away from Adam, falls to his side, his eyes closed, and lays still. Some part of him hopes that when he opens his eyes he will be eleven years old again, even younger, maybe even a baby, in some other family, some other life. A boy who would never lose his hair, never lose his mother, a boy who would have a loving father, a boy who could feel worthy of love. God damn. He has to laugh at himself. God damn. Where has he gotten this fairy tale? Is that really what he wants? This is life. You crawl on your knees to get through it. You do your best with the shit you are given. He gives up, and feels himself falling into sleep.

When his eyes open again, Adam is watching him. He raises a hand to the solemn face, runs his thumb over the parted lips. "Sorry," he whispers.

Adam lays his head on Lex's chest. "I like to hear your heart."

He clears his throat. He feels like he's been cloistered, silent, for a year. It hurts to talk. "Probably because we heard a heart beat in the womb. It must be comforting."

Adam drops small kisses on Lex's ribs, then licks up his body, slowly, stopping at the jaw line to look into Lex's face. "What happened today?"

"My father threatened to send me back to the loony bin."

"I'm sorry."

"Do you know how lucky I am? The electro-shock was more likely to erase me than not." It always feels so good to lie beside Adam. His body is always hot, his lips, his tongue, his breath against Lex's face. Lex thinks that Adam's body is continually running a fever, an immune response to the intrusion of the serum.

"You're angry."

"I can't tell you how many people have lied to me and betrayed me. I should be used to it by now." He thinks about what Adam has said. "Are you angry?"

Adam looks away from him, out the window. "Yes," he says, moving away from Lex. Lex notices a bruise on his hip, where Lex had been gripping him.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, reaching out to touch the spot.

"I don't think so. That's been happening, lately."

"What do you mean?"

"I keep getting rashes, and it seems like I bruise more easily."

"We have to tell Dr. Teng."

"No! Lex, please, don't."

"She needs to be advised of any changes in your condition."

"No!" He clutches Lex, hard, bites at his shoulder. "Promise me you won't tell her. She might try to take me away. She'll tell your father." He looked up at Lex, challengingly. "You can't do that to me."

"You're right. I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to hurt."

"I know." Adam's thumb strokes slowly across Lex's cheekbone. He leans in to kiss him softly at the left corner of his mouth, and then again at the right. "Thank you for trying to help."

Lex wants to protest, say that he can still solve this, make it right, make all the bad things go away, but he can't. Maybe no one could. This is the sin in what his father does, making messes so big, so out of control, that no one could fix them. There is a lump in his throat, and his eyes sting.

Adam leans into him, presses him back onto the mattress. "It's OK, Lex," he says, and then his mouth is moving down Lex's body, toward his cock. All Lex can feel is the blood rushing through his body, the heat where Adam's mouth engulfs him. It is enough to transport him. He comes with a cry that carries more pain than pleasure, but that is all right. The burden of his helplessness is what he needs to release.

******

Clark doesn't know exactly why he's here, climbing the stairs to the apartment above the Talon. He doesn't like Adam, and he resents how quickly the dude has insinuated himself in both Lex and Lana's lives. Maybe he just wants to understand what attracts them. Suddenly, he hears a noise of distress. X-raying, he sees Adam slumping against a wall, holding his head in his hands. Clark bounds up the rest of the stairs and knocks the door open with his shoulder, rushing to Adam's side. He appears to be unconscious, but is breathing rapidly. His skin has a strange yellow tint. Congealed blood lays across the lower half of his face. It looks like a nose bleed, but the blood is clumped, not thin like might be expected. Clark's response to seeing the helpless body surprises him. He really doesn't care. He has a nagging feeling like Lex will be upset by this, but that is about it. He doesn't know how long this feeling lasts, but long enough for him to be shocked by his own indifference. It seems to pass through him, then, and he finds himself back to normal, trying to figure out what he can do to help someone in danger. He shakes Adam gently, saying his name.

Adam's eyes crack open. "Clark?" he rasps.

"We need to get you to a hospital."

"No," Adam struggles up to a sitting position. Clark watches him impassively. "They can't help. Call Lex." He gestures to a cell phone lying on the bedside table. It's a Treo, just like Lex had bought for Lana.

Clark fumbles with it until he's able to dial Lex's cell number, which he knows by heart. Lex answers and his voice is amused. "You need to learn some patience, my friend."

"Lex?"

There's a pause. "Clark? Where's Adam?"

"He's sick, Lex. He told me to call you."

"God damn it." Lex's voice is anxious. "Does he need his medicine? Ask him if he's missed a dose."

"Did you miss a dose of your medicine?"

Adam's eyes are closed again. He shakes his head.

"He says no."

"OK. Clark, I need you to administer some morphine to him. It should be in the bathroom cabinet."

"I don't know how."

"That's OK. Just bring the stuff to him, help him. He'll tell you what to do. He knows how to do it. Tell him I'll be there as soon as I can with Dr. Teng."

After the morphine, Adam actually becomes more alert. The pain has ceased to be incapacitating. His face is covered in blood, and Clark runs a blue washcloth he finds in the bathroom under some lukewarm water. He approaches Adam. "Lex says he'll be here as soon as he can with Dr. Teng. Your face is bloody. I can clean you up if you want."

"Yeah, thanks."

Adam's skin is pretty, Clark thinks, as he starts to clean away the blood with gentle strokes. It's easy to understand why Lex is attracted to him. There's something almost wolfish about him, it's in his eyes. The last thing Clark wants in the world is to be turned on by this, but he finds himself growing a little warm as he rubs away the blood at the corner of Adam's mouth. "I need another washcloth," he says as he stands.

Adam's eyes are closed. He's sleeping. Clark sits down and waits for Lex.

Lex arrives with the doctor, who's a woman, and hot. He doesn't even notice Clark. Dr. Teng takes Clark's arm, and asks him to leave. The next thing he knows, he's standing outside the apartment and the door's being slammed in his face. He walks downstairs to the Talon, dazed. Lana sees him, and comes out from behind the counter. "What's that?" she asks.

He looks down in his hands and sees he's carrying the blood splattered washcloth. He quickly tucks it away in his bag and smoothes down his hair, trying to act normal. "I, uh, had a nose bleed. Adam helped me."

"Oh. I'm glad you guys are getting along." He realizes something he never has before. Lana's like his mother, hiding her worries with strained smiles. A pang shoots through him. Why do they have to be so delicate? He thinks of Lex's face when he saw Adam, and how quickly he managed to cover his fear, before Adam ever even saw it.

******

It's late afternoon, and Clark is at home. The wood of the kitchen table feel worn and smooth beneath his hand. His parents are talking about seeing a movie later that weekend, and the fried chicken and mashed potatoes and corn are still on the counter, waiting for him to put away. His peach pie sits unfinished in front of him on a chipped blue plate, and the ice cream has melted into a puddle. He's wearing a new blue shirt his mom bought for him at Target, and he's powerful enough to maybe even destroy the whole world. And Lex is in love with someone else. It shouldn't be the most important thing, but it is. He stands slowly from the table, stretching, enjoying the pull of his muscles over his ribs. The day is overcast, and he feels it as an overwhelming burden.

He walks slowly to the castle. Sometimes it helps to be patient, like this, like a normal person.

He stands in the hallway outside Lex's office for a long moment. When he x-rays, he can see Lex, slumped at his desk. He looks tired and sad. But when Clark switches back to normal vision and swings the door open, he's tried to put on his usual dominant Lex face. It almost works.

"How's Adam?" Clark asks.

"Why don't you go see for yourself? I'm sure he'd appreciate some company."

"We don't like each other."

"Don't be so childish." Lex looks disgusted. "You can't be friendly to someone who's sick because you don't like him? I'm disappointed in you, Clark."

He feels chastened, which makes him angry. "Give me a break. He's nothing to me. I still don't trust him."

"He's terminally ill, Clark. What the hell do you think he could do?"

"You're the one who told me the story about how a dying snake can still bite you with its last spasms. Poison is poison."

"You have no idea how ludicrous you sound. I'm busy, as I'm sure you know, and if all you came here to do was act like a spoiled brat, I really don't have time for you."

"You haven't had time for me since you met Adam."

Lex looks at him, realization sparking in his eyes. "If you think Adam's changed how I feel about you, you're mistaken."

He wants to deny it, wants to say he doesn't care how Lex feels, wants to leave and never come back. Then he remembers the last time he left Lex, after the car hit him, and an incredible wave of guilt washes over him. It isn't just about jealousy. It is seeing Lex with Adam, seeing how compassionate and caring Lex can be, and knowing, really knowing, that Clark has betrayed him. At some point, Clark had decided that Lex was somehow to blame for all his tragedies. Even becoming aware of his sexual attraction to Lex had allowed him to objectify Lex, seeing him as fundamentally flawed, but beautiful despite it. But there was no true flaw in Lex, no more than in any other man. There was no excuse for Lionel's abuse, for Helen's betrayal.

"Clark? Are you OK?" Lex, beside him.

He reaches out his hand, finds Lex's and squeezes. Maybe this is starting over. "I'm scared, Lex."

Lex's hand is on his arm. "Of what?"

"I don't want anyone to hurt you."

Relief crosses Lex's face. "I can take care of myself."

Clark brings his hand up to the much loved face. It isn't only, he realizes, that he accepts his love for Lex. Loving Lex is a fact. More importantly, he wants to love Lex. He can't imagine it being any other way. Clark strokes his thumb across Lex's brow. "I know you can. But, I worry."

"I worry about you, too. I know how strong you are, but I also know that makes you a target. You weren't safe from me for a very long time."

"Am I now?"

"Yes. There are mysteries. I accept that now. I couldn't before. Remember what I told you when Ryan was dying, about how I reacted when my mother was sick?"

"You wanted to cure her."

"Yeah. I believed knowledge could save me. I thought I had learned my lesson, Clark, but I didn't. I've believed for a long time that if I knew everything, I could control everything. But, Adam's situation, it's made me realize I can't. I'm happy to be disillusioned. It drove me crazy, trying to calculate you, what you are, but I know now that the only way I can know you is by knowing you. Knowing you like this, I mean, you and me together. I can't know you by studying you."

"Or hiring people to spy on me."

"Yes. I'm sorry, Clark."

Lex's hand is so solid and real in his own, so beautiful. He raises it to his lips, and kisses Lex's wrist. Lex smiles, the smile with the sadness in the eyes, like Clark's kiss was so good it hurt him. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"I couldn't save you, when you were at the hospital."

"Clark, I hesitate to say this, because I don't want you to deny it, but I know you were at the hospital. I know you tried to help me. No, don't say anything. I don't care how you did it. I know you tried to help me, and I won't ever forget it."

"I love you."

"Clark." Lex's voice which is usually so heavy, falls almost soundlessly from his mouth. Clark bends his head down the few inches to Lex's face, and presses a quick kiss on his lips. It is meant to seal his words. They stand together for a moment, looking at each other. Lex clears his throat. "Adam is, well, he's a failed experiment of my father's. His condition is deteriorating, and Dr. Teng and I are working together to try to stem the tide."

"Is it working?"

"No."

"I'm sorry."

Lex's only response is a sigh.

******

"Don't touch me. I'm disgusting." Lex knows none of the things he could say would really comfort Adam. All he can do is offer his touch, without any hesitation. He kisses Adam for a long time, and though Adam at times tries to push him away, he doesn't stop. His hands are still roaming, always gentle, and when Adam has stilled he continues with kisses. It hurts to hear Adam say, "I'm scared," and to watch him shiver.

"Are you cold?"

"Yeah."

Lex gets off the bed just long enough to turn up the heat. "Let's get under the covers." They lie together for a long, quiet moment. Adam is still shivering, but the tremors are slowing. Lex clears his throat. "I'm scared, too." And he is. He doesn't know if he can handle what is coming. There's no question in his mind that Adam will continue to deteriorate. As it stands now, there is still time. The sores are beginning to close. He runs a finger over one of them, as gently as he can, but Adam flinches. He now needs three times the original volume of the serum, twice as often. That in itself isn't necessarily the biggest problem. What concerns Lex is the amount of time it now takes for Adam's body to heal itself. Previously, upon injection, regeneration had appeared to occur within seconds. Lex had spoken with Dr. Teng about his own regenerative abilities and enhanced immune system. She couldn't see a way to supplement Adam's program with an additional serum derived from Lex's blood. It didn't matter. Even if it were possible, it wasn't what Adam wanted, this artificial life. There isn't much time. They have to take what they can get. Lex licks the side of Adam's neck, loves the salt of his skin. His thumb drifts down to pet Adam's nipple.

"Lex?" There's a sob in Adam's voice.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not hard."

"I like a challenge."

"No, Lex, you don't understand. I'm horny, but nothing's happening."

Lex's hand moves further down to stroke Adam's cock, and, yeah, nothing's happening. God. He keeps thinking it can't get worse for Adam, and then it does.

"I can't even get hard. God damn it!" Adam lets out another sob. "I can't even fuck."

"It's OK. It doesn't matter."

"It does. You wanted me to fuck you."

"It doesn't matter. It's not important."

"But I want it, too, Lex. I need to be close to you. When you let me fuck you, I feel like I'm going to go on, not like I'm disappearing."

"Adam, shhhh." Lex runs his fingers over and over the sweet face in front of him. It's raining, and Adam's room is gray. All Lex can think of is to play a game his mother had taught him. 'When you get better', it was called, and each scenario began with those magic words. "When you get better, I'm going to take you to the Matisse chapel."

"I've never been there. I've never been out of the country."

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go. I'll take you everywhere."

"I want to go to Paris. I want to go to Spain, to Toledo."

"Because El Greco painted there?"

"Yeah. And I want to see the Cathedral in Seville. And I want to go to the Virgin Islands, or one of those places in the Caribbean where the water's ultrablue like that."

As they talk, they trade small kisses back and forth. "I wish I could take you there now. I don't know how I could do it without my father knowing."

"It's not your fault, Lex." Adam's soft tongue traces Lex's lips. "I'm not mad at you."

Before, it had been Lex's mother who spun the fairy tales. He had almost hated her for it. Now, he understands their comfort. It is too hard to look some things in the face. He turns into Adam's body and closes his eyes. They lie together in silence, hands intertwined, practice for the tomb. There is a faint comfort in this pretend peace.

******

His father's blood is everywhere. All he can think of is being five years old, and afraid of a dog that was barking at him. Remembers being scooped into his father's arms, feeling protected and safe. The rest of his life shouts that his father should burn, but it is those few memories of tenderness that bring Lex to his knees with grief. He is grieving over what has happened and what should have been and will never be. When he can stand again, he searches for Adam, eventually finding him in the cell. Adam lies motionless on the dirty mattress on the floor. Lex takes off his overcoat and wraps it around him. "Can you walk? Should I carry you?"

"I'm sorry, Lex."

"It's OK."

"It just happened. I just lost it."

"I know." It will be easy to lift him. He was smaller than Lex to begin with, and he's lost a lot of weight in the past month.

"Can you forgive me?"

Lex kisses his brow. It isn't a gentle kiss. It's an oath, though Lex doesn't know what he's swearing. "Where do you want to go?"

"I belong here. Locked in a cage like an animal no one wants."

"You belong with me. Let me take you home, my home."

Adam nods. He clutches his fists to Lex's shirt like a child.

"I have to make a call, OK? I'll just be outside the door, if you need me." In the hall, he dials the number for the Kent Farm. Providence isn't a bitch, for once. Clark is home. Now comes the tricky part. "Clark, I'm in Metropolis, at the research facility. Can you come here for Adam, take him to the castle, and then come back for me? How long would that take?" Clark makes an unintelligible noise of protest, and is then silent. "He's dying, Clark, and it's really ugly. I want him to be comfortable. I want him to be someplace pretty, that smells nice. Please, Clark."

"I don't know."

"Clark. I'm desperate."

Clark sighs. "I'll be there." His face is the palest Lex has ever seen it when he arrives. "Your dad," he mutters.

"I know."

"Adam shot him?"

"Yes." He knows Clark wants him to say more, but he can't, not yet. It's too early, and he doesn't understand yet. All he can do is focus on these last few things he can do for Adam. "Please take him first. Take him to the castle, and put him in my bed. Open the curtains, if the sun doesn't hurt his eyes too much. Then come back for me." He looks back into the cell, at Adam's frail form in the darkness. "It won't kill him, will it? Traveling with you?"

Some storm crosses Clark's face. "I'll be careful." Then, in even less than the blink of an eye, they are gone.

Lex is back in his bedroom, back at Adam's side in the span of a few minutes.

"Lex?" Adam's voice is hoarse.

"I'm here."

He licks his lips. "What happened?"

"Everything's fine."

"I feel like shit. My head is killing me."

There is already a lot of morphine in Adam's system. More will mean the end. Lex tries to speak casually, but fails. "I can give you something for that, if you want."

"Yeah, that'd be good."

Lex doesn't know whether to be proud or frightened by how little his hands shake as he administers the drug. "That should help."

Adam's eyes open, and his hands clutch Lex's. "Thank you, Lex." It's a warm gaze, almost happy. "I love your sad face." Lex watches him as he begins to drift again, falling back asleep. His hand loosens its grip on Lex's. Then, suddenly, his eyes are open again, starring into space. "Why am I?" Lex waits, startled, but the question is never finished. Adam's face goes slack again and his eyes fall shut. Lex lies beside him, listening to his ragged breathing fade away.

******

"Why did you do it?"

"I'm a scientist. I wanted to see if I could. The applications could be of great benefit to the terminally ill." Dr. Teng speaks with conviction. She believes what she's saying.

Lex begins to break her beakers and test tubes, begins to throw everything off the counters with his right hand, as he holds the gun on her with his left. He doesn't care how childish it is, because the crash of broken glass is exquisite. He continues to advance on her, while everything in his path tumbles to the floor. She winces as she sees him pour her store of the serum down the drain. "It didn't matter to you that it was without the consent of your subjects?"

She glares at him. "That wasn't the most important consideration, no."

"You're a monster," he spits.

"You're a Luthor. You know what it means to place your goals above the desires of others. Your father built an empire because he took what he wanted without thought of what others wanted."

He shoots at her left side. The bullet flies past her, breaking more glass. She lets out a cry. "We're not here to talk about me."

"Please, don't hurt me."

He wouldn't. He understands her. She is like Faust. It's not about power. It's about knowledge. A pathological desire to understand, as if understanding could soothe all life's pains, bring about a new golden age of rationality and wealth. Yes, he understands her very well. "No," he puts the gun down as a show of faith. It's still in his hand, but it's no longer pointing at her. "I won't hurt you. That's not why I'm here. I want to know about my father."

"I don't understand."

"Why did he want to do this?"

She motions towards her files. "Let me show you." He nods, and she crosses the room and leafs through them, finally finding what she's looking for, and bringing it to him, her eyes downcast. "I want you to know I did everything I could for Adam."

He hates her. Why is she trying to justify what is unjustifiable? "If you mention that name again, I will shoot you."

There are tears on her cheeks as she places the folder down on the desk between them. "I'm not a bad person," she pleads.

"No?" He reaches for the folder, opens it. He pauses for a moment, considering. "I am."

"You're just a young man. How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"You're still young." She moves closer to him. "You don't have to become your father."

"Your unoriginal commentary is entirely unwanted." Inside the folder are photocopies of lab reports, but the name has been blacked out. "I don't understand. Whose are these?"

"They're your father's."

"I don't believe you." His father, stricken with the same disease as Adam. Things that seemed diabolical suddenly become human, comprehensible. He swallows, once, because his eyes are tearing. The papers fall from his hands.

"That's why he did it." She bends down to retrieve the papers.

He can't stay here, in this place where his father had staked claim on a way to cheat death, but had also victimized and created his own murderer. He can't stay here. He walks past her without another word, ignores her as she follows him, calling his name.

She grabs his arm, "Mr. Luthor!" He says nothing. He has nothing to say. "Don't," she says, gesturing behind her at the ransacked lab. "Don't do anything you can't undo."

Her words give him cause to pause. "Do you regret it?"

"I regret his pain."

"You should." A tear falls again from her eyes, but he does not hate her for this tear. It is not shed for herself. "You should never forget it."

"I won't." Her voice is soft, solemn. He wishes he were a different kind of man, the kind who could believe her, but he has heard that tone so many times, from so many people, and it never heralded any innocence or peace. It was simply the way people spoke when they wanted you to believe. He doesn't know why he looks at her again. Why does he reach out a hand, wiping away the blood on her cheek with his thumb? He feels the sharp point of a shard of glass sticking out of her skin.

"Do you have tweezers?"

She blushes. "In my makeup kit."

"Go get them, please." He stands with his hands in his pockets, feeling utterly detached. When she returns, he cautiously removes the shard from her skin. She flinches, and then sighs. "Feels better?"

"Yes, thank you."

He cups her round face with his palms. Her cheeks are full and soft. Her pupils dilate, and for just a moment, he's not himself, it's a completely different situation, two ordinary people, about to kiss. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Dr. Teng. I expect you to be an exemplar of ethical medicine. If you aren't, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

She nods, and he sees real fear in her eyes. That is a better promise than words. His hands drop away from her face, and he walks away from her without another glance. He's pushing open the door when she calls after him. "What about you? Are you going to be an exemplar?"

"You answer to me. I don't answer to you."

"Everyone answers to someone." She speaks under her breath, as if she hopes he won't hear.

He's heard that before, but he can't remember when. It doesn't matter. "I don't." He doesn't understand why it makes him sad to say it. Isn't this what he always wanted? He pushes open the door, and heads into the blinding light of the midday sun.

He returns to Smallville in the limo, drinking scotch, trying his damnedest not to think. It's hopeless. He keeps seeing the slow way the paper containing his father's death warrant had slipped from his hand and floated to the floor. He remembers a long lost night when he was fifteen, spent with a beautiful goth girl. She had a tattoo of Anubis, the Egyptian jackal-headed god of the dead, above her belly button. They had made out for hours, while Jeff Buckley's cover of 'Hallelujah' played over and over again. He has now, the same slow sensation of crumbling that the song gave him. His response to the song had been beyond any rationality. It was incapacitating. He couldn't have moved if he'd tried. Her lips, smeared round in the black lipstick that had slid off them after all the kissing, were heavy enough to weigh him down. He had wanted to be captive beneath them.

He feels now as he did then, like he is disintegrating. This time, it is because nothing traps him, no one is above him. He is adrift.

When he reaches Smallville, Lex has the driver drop him off on a corner downtown. He feels like he has to go to Adam's apartment over the Talon, like he's left something important back there. It's cold, and it's raining, and he feels so very fucking bitter. His ears are going to freeze off. He walks by Clark without even seeing him, realizes the lunk in the red jacket who he scrambles to get past is Clark only when his arm is grasped, his name spoken. He loves the way Clark says his name. "Lex? It's really cold. Where's your jacket?"

"I don't wear jackets, Clark."

"OK. Where's your coat?"

"I didn't realize it was so cold." Clark strips off his jacket, and Lex shakes his head. "No. Stop it. Keep that thing away from me."

"You need it more than I do."

God damn it, but Clark is actually going ahead and wrapping his fucking jacket around Lex. He's actually pulling up the god damn hood to cover Lex's head. "You're making me look like a moron." The jacket is puffy, one of those ski monstrosities.

"Actually," Clark grins at him, "you look cute."

"Cute and Lex Luthor are mutually exclusive terms."

"Not in my world."

"Well, I have on good authority that your world is stupid."

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

"I've been drinking, yes."

"You're drunk and wandering around downtown Smallville. This can't be good. I'm heading home. Come with me."

"So I can be assaulted once more with the Rockwellian perfection of your upbringing? No, thank you. I prefer to lie down in the gutter and die, looking up at the stars."

"OK. A? You're not dying. B? You know better than anyone that my life isn't perfect. C? It's afternoon, and there aren't any stars."

"It was an Oscar Wilde reference." Lex sniffles. God damn. Is his nose running? He feels like an overgrown six year old. "Anyway, I never said your life was perfect now. I said it was perfect when you were a kid."

"It wasn't. Come on, Lex. No one's life is a fairy tale."

"Some of us live in them, Clark. Bad ones, where the witch always wins." Adam convulsing suddenly flashes across his mind. His knees buckle, and he grasps at Clark for balance.

Clark's holding him up, whispering in his ear. "It's going to be OK, Lex. Come with me, come on." Clark's arm is around him, and he lets himself be led, supported, as they walk together toward the Kent truck. This is a sign, he thinks. Nothing can befall him without Clark's eventual rescue. Then he remembers that he always gets portentous when he's drunk.

He ends up on the Kent's couch. "No one's home," Clark says, and sits down very close to Lex . "Why have you been staying away, Lex? I miss you."

"What?" He can't be sure that he's not hallucinating, hearing what he wants to hear. Clark's hand is on his leg. "Don't," he grits out. Clark's nearness is so good, that warm hand gripping him, god, how he wants Clark's body wrapped around his own. But he's afraid, so afraid, and he's not sure why.

"You touch a man and he dies," he hears a voice behind him whisper.

"What?" He turns around, but no one is there. He turns back to Clark. "Did you hear someone?"

Clark cups Lex's face with both his hands. "Don't be scared. You're OK."

"I don't want to hurt you. Never, Clark."

"I would never hurt you, either."

He shakes his head. Why doesn't Clark understand? In his worst nightmares, flowers withered before he could even touch them. Just his hand reaching toward them killed them. His desire is deadly. "Whatever I touch, I ruin. I won't let that happen to you."

"That's not true."

"I'm not what I want to be. I suppose we never are." He leans his forehead against Clark's, so that a blurred Clark is all he can see in front of him. "When I look at you and me, I see what I want to see, but it's never real. We can't ever let it be real." It drains him to say it. He falls back against the couch, his energy gone. His eyes drift shut. It's so warm. The room is warm, Clark's body so near him is warm. The Kent house always smells musky and sweet, like fresh cut hay. The couch sags comfortably beneath him. He turns his face into the pillow.

Are those Clark's lips softly pressing down on his own for a moment, before moving to his cheek, his temple? Is he already dreaming?

"Listen to me. Are you listening?"

Lex nods.

"We're going to be OK. You may be afraid, but I love you, and I'm not afraid of this. We're going to be OK."

God, how he wants the words to be true. Clark's arms are around him. The world can't fall apart just yet. They are safe, at least for right now, for this moment, aren't they? Yes, just for this moment. Tightly cocooned in this room, the womb of Clark's embrace. Safe. Lex slept.

******

Clark wakes in his bed to find Lex watching him. They lie facing each other, their heads still flat on the pillows. He's had these soft flannel sheets as long as he can remember. They're comforting and warm, but nothing compared to how Lex's gaze makes him feel.

"Why do you love me?"

When Lex speaks, his expression hardens. It makes Clark feel like he's on trial. "It's kind of hard to explain something like that."

"Will you try?"

"If you want me to. Do you want me to?" Lex lowers his eyes and refuses to answer. Clark pulls him closer. He's suddenly afraid Lex is going to disappear. Lex has superspeed, too. He can vanish in a second, leaving only his shadow behind. Clark's arms lock tight around Lex, and he lets his own eyes drift shut. He rubs his face against Lex's, like a cat, enjoying the heat of the friction, the smoothness of Lex's skin. Now or never, he tells himself. Deep breath. Deep breath. God, Lex smells so good. Like cedar. "I always felt like there was something wrong with me. I never fit in. I knew I wasn't like other kids. It scared me. I felt really alone. When I met you, Lex, you weren't like anyone else, either. And I liked it. I liked you." He opens his eyes and looks into Lex's. It's embarrassing, but it seems important not to hide. Clark wants to be able to say the things that matter most like this. "I thought you were beautiful, Lex, from the first time I saw you. And I liked that you seemed to see me the same way." Lex's expression is halfway between dismayed and amused. "Shit. I sound really dumb don't I?"

"Not at all."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Beauty's not supposed to admire the Beast."

"You know what I don't love? You know what I hate? I hate when you talk about yourself like that. I hate your piece of shit dad for making you believe all that crap." Shit. He hadn't meant to bring up Lionel Luthor. The man was a cancer, even from beyond the grave. "I'm sorry, Lex. I shouldn't have said that."

Lex's face is contemplative. "It's all right. I hated him, too." There's a flicker of pain in his eyes. "I also loved him."

"I admire you for being so strong, Lex, for surviving all the things that happened to you. I hate that you lost your mom. But, sometimes when you're with me, I can see that I make you happy. I can tell that when we're together, none of the shit that came before, for either of us, matters as much." It's not so hard, Clark realizes, to tell someone you love them when you really do. "You're so smart, you know so much. And your mouth, I've loved it ever since we met, ever since our lips touched. I want you so much."

"Do you?"

How can he say all this, and still have Lex looking at him with so much doubt? "Lex, don't you believe me?"

"I guess. Anything's possible."

"You're right. So what are you so afraid of?"

"I've always had the idea of you, Clark."

"You really think that's better than having me?"

"No. It does have one iron-clad advantage."

"What's that?"

"It's mine. I can keep it forever."

"But it's not real."

"Hesse said the only thing that was real was one's inner life."

"That's BS."

"Is it? My outer life has been a nightmare several times. I don't know if I could have survived without my thoughts about what was happening. My thoughts and my memories. I do have some good ones."

"I know I'm in some of them."

"You're in the very best, my friend."

That's it. Clark kisses Lex, clings to him, drags his lips across Lex's face. "God, I missed you," he says. When Lex tries to pull away, he holds him closer. "Don't punish me along with yourself, Lex. Please. I need you." Lex makes a noise so close to a sob that Clark's heart is deluged with feeling. "I know you love me, too."

"It doesn't matter. I'm not good for you."

"I belong with you. I know that. Are you glad you're alive?"

"Some days."

"I could kill you, Lex, right now, if that's what you want. I'll do it if it's what you want. Do you want to die?"

"No."

"I brought you back to life. I shared my breath with you. I own you."

"You think you own me?"

"I know I do. You're mine."

Lex's hands are in his hair. Lex's mouth is at his throat. "Say it again." There is aggression in his commanding tone.

"You're mine."

"Say it again." Lex unbuttons Clark's shirt, kissing the skin he uncovers.

"You're mine."

Lex closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them again, they stare at each other. Clark's cock grows harder. "Whatever happens, don't stop saying it." Lex's voice, his hands, are frantic.

"You're mine, Lex. You belong to me." It becomes a chant, but he doesn't speak it continuously. There's a connection between him and Lex, a circuit. It's always been between them, but now it's electrified. He can tell when Lex needs words from his mouth, when he needs kisses. Lex's mouth is on his, and it's warm, and it's hot, it's comforting and it's sexy, and it feels like the only thing Clark has ever wanted. It has been so so long since he's had Lex's mouth like this, since the day at the bridge, it's like they need each other to breathe, his exhale becoming Lex's inhale, one breath, cycling through their bodies, over and over and over. He can't quite believe it's happening, that this is his mouth circling Lex's nipple, that this is his tongue tasting the musky sweat under Lex's arms, that this is his cock rubbing up against Lex's. He never thought the first time would be like this, with Lex looking at him like this, so damn vulnerable. He never thought he would be the one who wasn't afraid, not at all, who was so completely sure. Didn't they say that love complicated things? But this, this was simple, this was what he wanted. This right here, Lex's hand on his cock, the thumb brushing over the head. Oh, god, Lex drawing him closer, and cupping his balls, his finger slipping further back, to tease at Clark's asshole. Why the fuck did that feel so good? Lex is moving down Clark's body. Lex's mouth replaces his hand, and every muscle in Clark's body tightens. His thighs are shaking. It feels so so good to thrust into Lex's mouth, to feel all that heat enveloping him, all his nerves are sparking, all through his body, like he's a star about to supernova. He doesn't want to come, he wants to be suspended forever in the moment right before, his heart, his thighs, his hands, everything clenched. Shit. He's done for. The rush of the release makes him feel like he's flying, and there's a roaring in his ears that takes him far away from the room, far away from everything, even Lex. It's a momentary tsunami, and then it slowly recedes, dropping him unharmed back on the shore. He opens his eyes, sits up, and reaches out to Lex. He starts to speak, but stops when Lex shakes his head, holds his hand against Clark's mouth.

Lex straddles Clark's hips. "Watch me," Lex says. "Just keep your eyes on me, Clark. Don't even blink." Clark does as he's told. He sees Lex's hand jerking his cock with his peripheral vision, but most of all he just sees Lex's awed eyes, fixed on his own. And he knows that he's making Lex look like that, so reverent, and he knows the same expression's on his own face, and he loves that they're trading the feeling back and forth. Lex's orgasm comes quickly, taking him by surprise. Lex's eyes are wide, he gasps, and then his head falls back, his back arches, and he lets out a cry, his hot come striking Clark's chest, his chin. Lex falls forward, slumps against Clark. He rests for a moment, then looks up at Clark, and wipes at the come on Clark's face. Clark sees the shards of regret in Lex's gaze. He knows Lex is afraid that everything's just gone to hell, been ruined, destroyed. He takes Lex's hand, licks the spunk right off of it. "You're mine, Lex. You belong to me. All of you. Beauty, Beast, every fucking side of you. Everything. All mine."

Lex bows his head like a supplicant. His smile is small and sublime, like the last window has been unbarred and he finally sees.


End file.
